


Play It Right

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Complete, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different kind of celebration, years after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play It Right

Warnings: Angst, language, implied sex times

 

Pairings: 1x2x3

 

Play It Right

 

They were dancing.

Since this was a party dancing wasn’t exactly unexpected, but they weren’t downstairs in the ballroom with the hundreds of dignitaries from around the Earthsphere. They were upstairs, on the roof, and there was no music.

That didn’t seem to bother either of them.

Duo had taken the lead, one arm wrapped low on Heero’s back and the other holding their joined hands together between their chests. Heero’s free hand rested on Duo’s shoulders, his fingers twined into the long braid of hair that trailed down Duo’s back and swayed in time with their bodies.

They had abandoned their jackets at some point and Duo had freed himself of his necktie. Heero still wore his, but it was askew, as if Duo had tugged at it, impatient, teasing.

Their bodies were pressed together so closely that they seemed fused together, from their hips to their cheeks, resting side by side. Duo’s chin was propped on Heero’s left shoulder and Heero’s on Duo’s.

They looked perfect, isolated and self-sustained.

Duo’s blue eyes lost the lazy, lusty look and sharpened, but it was the only indication he gave to having noticed their audience.

Duo looked right at him, held his gaze and seemed to be… taunting him? Daring him? Judging him?

Trowa couldn’t tell, so he stayed in the shadows and watched.

Duo titled his face to the side and kissed Heero’s neck, teasing the golden skin with his tongue and his teeth and even from where Trowa stood he could hear the sharp intake of breath, could feel Heero’s arousal at Duo’s caress.

Duo’s hand drifted downwards, abandoning Heero’s waist and searching for his ass, squeezing it and then continuing downwards, teasing Heero’s anus through the wool dress pants.

They were still dancing, still swaying together and Duo was still staring at Trowa.

Duo whispered something in Heero’s ear and they turned, so that now Trowa found himself staring directly into Heero’s eyes.

He was smirking, that soft, sexy curve to his lips that meant he knew something you didn’t and he had no intention of telling.

Trowa watched Heero watching him for what seemed an eternity before they turned again.

But Duo wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes were closed and his head rested on Heero’s shoulder, content and peaceful. The sun could explode in that moment and it was clear that Duo didn’t give a damn.

Trowa swallowed hard and for the first time he felt like an intruder.

The shrill wail and scream of fireworks startled all three of them.

Duo jerked away from Heero as though he had been shot, Heero reached for a weapon he hadn’t worn in years, and Trowa found himself moving forward, out of the shadows, ready to put himself between the two men and whatever harm they had imagined.

Duo drew in a deep breath.

“I think it’s time to get out of these suits and fuck each other senseless,” he said to no one in particular.

Heero stooped down to pick up their discarded jackets and Duo’s tie and he looked back at Trowa while he did so.

“Coming with us?”

He remembered the first time Heero had issued that invitation, three years ago, when he and Duo turned in their badges and left the Preventers. It had taken him completely aback, then, as it did now.

Duo and Heero had been together since the end of the war, had been inseparable except for the fall out periods of their legendary fights that often left them angry and glaring and silent for weeks before they forgave each other. It had been during one of those periods that Heero had first taken Trowa as a lover, had stayed late at work one night and pushed him over a desk and fucked him in public, where anyone could have walked in and stopped it but no one had.

Two days later Duo and Heero were stealing food from each other’s plates in the commissary and Trowa had felt such blinding, numbing rage that he had walked out of the Preventers offices and spent the day sitting on a beach, staring at the water and willing himself to feel nothing, ever again.

Duo was posted to L3 for two months after that, and nearly every night Heero came over to Trowa’s pathetically barren apartment and they fucked.

When Duo came back it was on a stretcher and he was in hospital for two weeks, recovering from the gunshot wounds he had suffered when saving the lives of civilians.

Trowa went to visit him, because Quatre was in town and forced him to go, and when he put a bunch of wilting flowers by Duo’s beside, Heero stood there, one hand buried in Duo’s hair. Trowa looked into Duo’s eyes and Duo looked back at him...taunting him? Daring him? Judging him?

Heero stayed with Duo at the hospital and when Trowa did see him at work his eyes were raw, red and rimmed in bruises.

Duo’s first day back on active duty was completely wasted. Everyone stopped by his desk to give him food, a pat on the back, congratulations. From his desk a few yards away Trowa could see Duo fade, could see his energy wane and his patience evaporate, but Duo stayed at his desk, hours after everyone else left, until only he, Heero and Trowa remained.

He was too tired to participate, but did Trowa mind if he watched?

The words had evaporated every logical thought in Trowa’s brain, and looking at their smirks - hungry and eager on Heero’s face, tired and amused on Duo’s - he couldn’t decide if this was some cruel, complicated plot to utterly destroy him.

But he let Heero fuck him, let himself be overwhelmed but the feeling of belonging when Heero buried himself deep and he watched Duo watching him. He watched Duo’s bright eyes and the way his long, dangerous fingers pleasured himself and he knew that if that was their plan, they had succeeded brilliantly.

For two years they worked in that office, rotated beds and partnerships and hospital visits until the day Trowa woke up in a hospital bed with only one leg.

It was weeks before they would release him, months before he could walk using the prosthetic and a cane, and the day after he returned to work and accepted the food, the pats on his back, the congratulations, Duo and Heero turned in their badges and asked him to go with them.

Then, as now, Duo held out his hand.

Then, as now, Trowa glared at him.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Duo. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

Then, as now, Duo grinned at him, kissed him and felt him up while Heero looked at them, that same damn smirk on his face.

 

 


End file.
